


Can I Have a Kiss?

by Backwardshirt



Category: Bleach
Genre: After TTYBW, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Fluff and Humor, GrimmIchi - Freeform, Grimmjow in a gigai, Ichigo stop that, Kisuke stop messing with gigais, M/M, Rated for swearing, and for mild spice, overprotective Ichigo, slight angst if you squint, valentine's day fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-08
Updated: 2021-02-08
Packaged: 2021-03-13 08:47:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,654
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29275683
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Backwardshirt/pseuds/Backwardshirt
Summary: Ichigo hated Valentine's Day. It was a waste of money, time, and resources.And no he wasn't saying that because his sister had a date and he didn't.Maybe he'll give it a shot this year though....
Relationships: Grimmjow Jaegerjaques/Kurosaki Ichigo, Hanakari Jinta/Kurosaki Yuzu
Comments: 6
Kudos: 106





	Can I Have a Kiss?

**Author's Note:**

> Another cheesy, silly story for your reading pleasure!

Ichigo sighed in front of Urahara’s shop door, debating if he should sit in the dumpster instead. That was where he was probably going to end up—that or a grave, if Grimmjow had any input in the decision. A small bead of sweat rolled down his neck as he swallowed hard, Adam’s apple bobbing up and down.

Raising his hand to knock, he stopped and shook his head. It was a shop; he wasn’t supposed to knock. Right? That’s how that usually worked. Scrubbing one hand through his already spikey orange hair, he pushed the door open and tried to hide the stupid thing in his hand away before Urahara could see it and comment.

Not that it mattered apparently.

“Ahhh~~, if it isn’t my favorite substitute Shinigami. Grimmjow isn’t here just yet, unless that box of cheap candy is for me? I’m flattered, but between Yoruichi and science, I scarcely have time for another love.”

Ichigo gagged as he glared at Urahara, the man sitting cross-legged, so tightly he was imitating a pretzel, before the door that led into the living quarters on a green zabuton. If he wouldn’t get some sick pleasure out of it, Ichigo would kiss him on the mouth, just to make him shut the fuck up; it was the only way to knock him off guard for Ichigo to maybe get a chance at punching him in his scruffy throat.

But if Yoruichi got word of it…she’d probably suggest an activity that involved three people and kido ropes, and he didn’t want that. _I mean, Yoruichi is hot, but it would almost be like fucking my weirdly attractive and inappropriate aunt or something. Not to mention they’re both older than dirt._

But Ichigo didn’t fight the urge that had him chucking the ugly, heart shaped box at the scruffy shopkeeper, ruining probably whatever candy had been not-so-carefully packed into it, the bastard ducking before it nailed him in the eyes, box hitting the wooden floor with an unsatisfying _thunk_.

The rush of air from the box hitting warp speed as it traveled towards its scraggly destination caused the ugly shiny hearts the shopkeeper had dangling from the ceiling to tremble, making a weird, static-y sound. Purples, pinks, and reds twisting and twirling in the air above him, along with annoying, flashing lights of the same color. It was for the best, really; it’s what the chocolate would want.

The bastard pulled his fan out of some god-forsaken crevice on his body, _hopefully_ from his shihaksho or haori, but Ichigo wasn’t holding his breath, and waved it lightly at Ichigo.

Throwing his coat over his now empty hands in an attempt to not strangle the man, Ichigo let out a long-held sigh. If nothing else, he could’ve always split the box with Grimmjow, claiming some weirdo had gave it to him and see where that went. Was his idea cheesy and bad? Absolutely. Was that going to stop him? Nope, but Urahara could somehow wrangle any plan off even the most solid tracks with a wave of his fan and a perfectly timed fart. _He’s gotta be a master at the butterfly effect._

“You do know he doesn’t like chocolate, right,” Urahara mused at him, hiding most of his face away, only his eyes, sparkling with mischief, and wiggling eyebrows visible. _Well, at least someone is having a great Valentine’s day._

Ichigo coughed into his collared shirt. Why did he wear a button down again? _I’m just going to fight the guy, not take him on a date._ It was ridiculous to think Grimmjow might see him in something that wasn’t his shihaksho, maybe even see him in…form fitting clothing, for a change. Grimmjow always wore his tight little cat-jump-suit thing, why couldn’t Ichigo change things up?

“This relationship will never work, then,” Ichigo mumbled into his elbow, trying to fight back his rising redness. This was definitely a bad idea, he decided to himself, though Urahara could see it written in sharpie, all over his blushing face.

“Pfff, who says it’s working now, genius?”

The door opened behind Urahara, revealing a very…bedazzled Jinta. Wearing a shiny, black jacket with silver studs on the shoulders, hair slicked back, slim jeans without holes, black boots not unlike the ones Grimmjow wore, _where does Urahara find this stuff,_ and a white t-shirt with three red lines bisecting it diagonally. Stepping out and over the heart shaped box, he slid the door shut behind him. He was glaring as he messed with his fire-engine colored hair. Ichigo rolled his eyes at the boy, it was obvious he was all dressed up for his _date_ , even though he knew it was just a walk around the park. _At least, that’s all it better be._

“If you so much as _look_ at Yuzu wrong, I’m going to kill you,” Ichigo said, meeting the kid’s glare with his own, double in ferocity.

“We’re just going to walk around the park!” He saw Jinta swallow, nervous. _Good._ A little fear never hurt anyone. It wasn’t like Ichigo was going to traumatize him…on purpose.

Why his dearest baby sister had actually _agreed_ to this sort of thing was absolutely beyond him. She was even _excited_ when Ichigo left the house earlier, getting ready, wearing her favorite winter outfit, a thick woolen dress with black leggings, black boots, big red cardigan draping over her shoulders and a pink scarf. If the kid didn’t say she looked nice, he was going to kill him. If he said too many times how nice she looked, he was going to kill him—there was a fine line he was on, okay? And hell if Ichigo was gonna let him in on that because he was damned sure he didn’t know himself.

Jinta wasn’t dumb enough to try anything, and he would never do anything to hurt her, but the fact that his little sister was going on a _date_ was enough to send his protective instincts into absolute overdrive.

That and so what if Yuzu had a date and he didn’t. He didn’t care.

“Besides,” Jinta added, crossing his skinny little arms, arms that couldn’t protect his sister if something happened, knocking Ichigo from his thoughts rolling around in mud like fat little pigs. Was he panicking? Abso-fuckin’-lutely. “I don’t take advice from someone who can’t bite the bullet and get their not-boyfriend something that isn’t cheap, bad candy. And you didn’t even get it here!”

“Alright then, lover boy, what should I get him?” Ichigo asked, crossing his arms over his chest and pointedly ignoring the whole not boyfriend comment. It wasn’t for lack of trying on his part. Then again, Ichigo had never really been good at flirting. Wasn’t that kind of what their fights were, anyway? One big foreplay session with no actual payoff in the end? Whatever.

“Try a steak. Or a big tuna fish. It doesn’t even have to be cooked; he could eat in in his resurrection form or something.” Ichigo felt his eye twitch unintentionally.

“Nope.” Bad idea number one.

“Tch, fine. Collar with a bell.” Number two. Not that it wouldn’t be useful, but couldn’t cats work around the collar of their bells or something?

“No.”

“Flea comb.” _Strike three—you’re out!_

“I want him to like me, not go back to actively trying to murder me,” Ichigo said, planting a hand in Jinta’s hair and ruffling it to hell and back. He swatted his hand away with an aggravated sound, and Ichigo _definitely_ didn’t imagine the couple curses he emitted under his breath.

“Then just shove your tongue in his mouth or something. That’s a hard one to misinterpret. What the hell do you guys do in the bunker, then?”

Ichigo couldn’t believe he was having this conversation with Jinta. One Kisuke was bad enough, but at least the regular sized version was usually placid in his everyday interactions. He liked to irritate Ichigo, but sitting down, drinking tea. Not like this little runt, all bright red hair and a spitting personality to match. The miniature version of him was damn near unbearable. That and Ichigo had witnessed the kid fall off a skateboard by attempting a handstand. Jinta didn't own a skateboard, and he definitely didn't know how to ride one. _Maybe he wasn't quite a miniature Urahara after all._ But that may be the protection instincts kicking in. Maybe that was _why_ the protection instincts were kicking in.

“All of your ideas are terrible,” he said with a sigh, rubbing his face. Who even cared about acne anymore—he’d just steal some of Karin’s cucumber facewash and let her yell at him. Ichigo decided to ignore the chuckle of the shopkeeper, still sitting cross-legged on the zabuton underneath him. Taking a peek, it was actually two, one on top of another, the old fart-head.

Jinta shrugged, the leather making a weird sound, like it hadn’t been broken in, as he stepped around the shopkeeper, who had remained suspiciously quiet. That or Urahara was performing an intricate and impressive ventriloquist routine, using Jinta as his unwitting, and quite frankly, unreliable, puppet.

Jinta shoved past him, one shoulder knocking against Ichigo’s forearm, and he was out the door, upturning his collar like a bad greaser in a 50’s American movie. His straightened-up hair was vaguely reminiscent of Grimmjow, Ichigo thought, as he watched Jinta kick the door shut with a booted foot.

_Oh my God, he’s taking after Grimmjow too, I’ve gotta follow them._

Kisuke being a constant male figure in his life was one thing he could _maybe_ deal with most of the time. But _Grimmjow?_ That was one big can of _nope._ One Grimmjow— _his_ Grimmjow—was more than enough. 

Ichigo held up his coat and began to force his arms through the sleeve the way he did anything anymore—confused and frustrated, sometimes in equal measures, sometimes not. He had one arm in completely before he realized he was putting it on backwards like an idiot who didn’t know how coats worked. _I hate Valentine’s day._

“Tell Grimmjow I can’t make it. I have…uh…,” Ichigo stalled to Urahara, who had pulled a cup of tea out of his ass apparently. If he made it, it was a wild card what it would taste like. Taking out his arm from the backwards sleeve, he tried again. Hopefully this time with slightly more success. 

"Constipation?" Urahara offered unhelpfully, taking a sip of his tea. Ichigo hoped it tasted like kitty litter and cheap tequila. Then again, that's usually what the food he made tasted like anyway, so he was probably used to it. Bastard. 

"Prior obligations," Ichigo corrected with a glare, stuffing his other arm through and zipping up. 

“Obligations to die if you don’t fight me,” a voice growled from behind the immobile shopkeeper. The door slid open with violent speed, almost sliding directly off the tracks, revealing an extraordinarily pissed off arrancar, hair almost standing on end, zipper undone to near his hollow hole, the top park peeking out like a poorly hidden surprise. _Does it do that when he’s mad or is he just…having a wild...er…hair day?_ His jaw clenched so hard Ichigo could hear the grinding of the jawbone's teeth, making him swallow a nervous lump in his throat. Urahara tilted his head back and grinned up at him, like there was absolutely nothing at all to worry about having a grouchy as hell ex-arrancar skulking around behind him. 

“Grimmjow! Look it’s—” Grimmjow snapped his fangs at him, approaching Ichigo in much the same way a building fell into a sinkhole, quickly with too much noise, and a lot of sharp bits.

“You made a fight schedule. Every Friday at six. Made me use human time and everything.” His baritone voice sounded full of rocks and glass as he growled out the words, closing in on Ichigo’s personal space, nostrils flaring.

Oh, Grimmjow was pissed. Yes, he made a schedule for him to follow. He had too; otherwise he ran the risk of him showing up every other day, which Ichigo wouldn’t mind at all, but beating the hell out of each other was a pain in the ass, literally, especially since, more often than not, Ichigo didn’t get home until around midnight. Sometimes it took him the whole weekend to recuperate after a really good round. He couldn’t do that every other night _and_ keep up with his university studies. Med school was hard enough as it was, and Urahara’s healing spring, since he’d changed the water recently, had been giving him the willies. It felt...slimier than usual. Ichigo shivered; he probably changed it for the...upcoming holiday, the pervert. 

Ichigo held his hands up, hoping to placate the snarling mess in front of him. As Grimmjow grabbed him by the collar of his really nice dress shirt, he realized it wasn’t working.

“I know it’s just—”

“This idiot forced one of those noise makers on me. It rings every Friday at 5:50, and doesn't stop 'til I get here.” Ichigo blinked. 

“You have a phone? Since when?”

Did he know how to use it? Could he text him? Did Grimmjow know how to text? Ichigo decided that he would definitely teach him how, so long as Urahara hadn’t given him some defunct flip-phone from the beginning of time. Knowing him, he could and _would_ program a rock to do much the same thing, especially if he was bored.

“Focus, fuckwad. You ain’t backin’ outta this fight.”

Ichigo didn’t see it as backing out, just a…tactical retreat. Not even that. He was stalking his sister to make sure her date was going okay, and that Jinta was keeping his gross little hands to himself. They could hold pinkies or something, but that was _it._ It was _important damnit._ Ichigo told him as much.

“I need to make sure Jinta is nice to my sister!”

“Tch, he’d eat the ground she walked on if she asked. She’ll be fine. Should be more worried about him.”

Ichigo groaned. Grimmjow was right and he knew it. Grimmjow also knew it, which was more of a problem, to be honest. Maybe a compromise could be made? Urahara hummed not so quietly on his doubled zabuton, lost in his own little world, apparently. Nothing new there, but it was still weird to see him so subdued. Normally he was actively trying to insert himself into Ichigo’s life via needles or bribery. Then again, it was Valentine’s day. He probably had...other things to think about.

“Fine. Come with me. We can fight after.”

Grimmjow crossed his stupidly muscular arms in front of his unzippered chest. Ichigo had been trying to bulk up some muscle mass, but so far, his DNA had said _hell no_. Even in his human body, he was unusually strong, but he was still no Chad, as far as looking like it. He was definitely bigger than when he started the whole substitute soul reaper gig, but he blamed most of that because he was older. 

Moreover, Ichigo definitely did _not_ think it would be like a date, even if they would be going to the park. Together. It would be for spying, but still. It was a partner activity, and Ichigo was wearing a nice shirt. His nicest shirt, actually. 

“No.”

Or not. But Ichigo could be just as, if not more, stubborn than the grumpy cat-man in front of him. It was either that or no fight this weekend. Leave it to his family to mess up his Valentine’s day. Again, not that he had any plans, but he _could’ve_ , if Grimmjow would just _cooperate_.

“It’s that or nothing.”

Grimmjow sneered, glaring at Ichigo, eyes narrowed, as he took a step backwards and seemed to actually mull it over. His tensed shoulders dropped a little, relaxing only slightly as Ichigo watched him roll is tongue in front of his teeth. Burying the _not_ important question regarding the length of said tongue, he crossed his own arms, waiting for an answer.

Leveling what only could be described as a pouty look at Ichigo, Grimmjow let loose a sigh and looked away.

“Fine.”

………..

“Will you stop messing with it? It looks fine,” Ichigo said, swatting Grimmjow's hand away and fixing the messed-up beanie for him so it looked like he actually knew how to wear it.

It was a good look for him, all things considered. Glancing at his handiwork of picking out clothing, Ichigo decided he liked how Grimmjow looked in human clothes. The burgundy sweater wasn’t unreasonably tight, but it definitely did the man’s arms a favor, especially since he’d pushed the sleeves up to his elbows, and Ichigo could see the loose undershirt peeking out underneath the bottom hem. The black coat he’d yet to put on, griping about being _too many clothes_ or whatever, but Ichigo insisted he bring it anyway. The jeans fit perfectly, showing off thighs that could crush his head with willful ease, and he’d opted to keep his boots on.

Urahara was…nice…enough to let Ichigo raid his closet for something inconspicuous, on the condition they wouldn’t come back for quite a while. He said he had a _valentine’s surprise_ for Yoruichi, and Ichigo nearly gagged. _Hopefully it doesn’t have anything to do with him cooking,_ Ichigo thought. Surprisingly the man had a little bit of taste, even though Ichigo had never seen him in anything but his green haiori and shihaksho.

He’d found something that fit Grimmjow easily enough, so he wouldn’t be wandering around outside in a jumpsuit in February. Of course, he’d found it after what felt like an eternity of convincing Grimmjow to get in his gigai. Scouring through the closet as Grimmjow pouted about his hair behind him, Ichigo pulled out a pair of straight leg jeans, soft burgundy sweater with an undershirt, a black coat and beanie for his glow in the dark hair.

Oh, did he mention Urahara had switched out his blue hair for blond? Because Urahara switched out blue hair for blond and Grimmjow _hated_ it with an unrelenting passion. The shopkeeper said some nonsense about _blue is too obvious Kurosaki-kun~~~,_ and taken off the estigma as well for the time being. Ichigo had said that neon blond was _also_ too obvious, as was his own hair for that matter, but Urahara just flapped his arms like a delusional bird on methamphetamine and said _I’ll put everything back to normal next time~._ Grimmjow meanwhile, all but freaked the fuck out.

Pulling a beige beanie over his own ears as they walked, Grimmjow skulked behind him a couple paces, black beanie pulled down over the majority of his new hair. Ichigo wasn’t sure he liked it, and Grimmjow absolutely didn’t like it, by the way he tried to hide as much of it as possible. Also, he’d threatened to shave it off the gigai, but that had made Urahara giggle a little too gleefully, so he recanted soon after.

They got to the park quickly enough, even saw the two little lovebirds walking the path when Ichigo had drug Grimmjow into the trees bordering the edge of the park. This was a reconnaissance mission after all, and they couldn't risk being caught. Jinta and Yuzu had stopped, both looking at...he wasn't sure, some cloud in the sky or a weird bird maybe--he had gotten caught up in staring at Grimmjow's current attire, a little proud of himself for picking out a decent look for him. The sweater made him look less prickly, but the boots made up for it. 

Grimmjow got fidgety the more Ichigo continued to not so subtly admire how good he looked, until he spotted something from beyond the line of trees they were currently ducked behind like a couple of creepy lurkers. With their dark clothing, it was hard to see them behind the tree line, and for February, it really wasn’t all that cold, thankfully. Grimmjow still hadn’t put his coat on, opting to shove it into Ichigo’s empty hands while he stuffed his own in his jean pockets. Ichigo really didn’t want to find out if he could catch a cold in a gigai, but he had a feeling he’d probably find out next week. 

“There,” he said with a nod of his head. The color was growing on Ichigo, maybe like a tumor, but it was growing nonetheless. Ichigo followed the line of his nod to see his little sister and the fire-truck emulator walking again, down the side walk with linked arms. She had a bubbly smile on her face, and at one point covered up her mouth with her hand to stifle a laugh. Jinta looked like he was walking on air.

The path they were on would take them really close to where Grimmjow and Ichigo were hiding behind some trees, since it was more _scenic_ or whatever, and Ichigo frowned, looking around the area for a better hiding spot and crouching down slightly. Grimmjow sighed audibly, a loud, frustrated sound, and kicked a rock into a nearby tree, bouncing it off the bark and shooting into some unrecognizable brambly bush.

“This is stupid.” Ichigo sighed himself. Was he _really_ still pouting? He didn’t really have to come, Ichigo would’ve fought him tomorrow, though he wouldn’t have told him that to his face. So maybe he wanted some company, so what? Stalking his sister and her date alone would be boring _and_ creepy. At least he could have someone to be creepy with. Sure it wasn’t an ideal way of spending time together, but it was better than nothing, even if Grimmjow would rather be fighting. 

“What even is this…Valentines day, anyway?”

Ichigo blinked and looked up at him from his crouch, semi-squinting at the man. This particular park had changed out half the regular white-light bulbs with various pink and reds—Ichigo supposed it was romantic, but really, the way some areas were bathed in a creepy red glow, gave him serial killer vibes more than anything. 

Grimmjow was looking down on him—literally, in this case—a frown set on his face. He looked…bored. Suddenly feeling a little guilty over dragging his sparring partner—and nothing more—to the park to help him stalk his sister, Ichigo stood to his full height, Grimmjow’s glowing blue eyes following him all the way. Hating Valentine’s day more than ever, Ichigo opened his mouth.

“It’s a stupid holiday where people—couples—get together and spend a dumb amount of money trying to impress the other one more.”

Grimmjow snorted and rolled his eyes as he scratched the side of his face—the one where his mask should be, but wasn’t. At least Urahara hadn’t given him a blond beard; that would’ve been _way_ too much. He would’ve looked like a grouchy, in shape, Santa Claus, and Ichigo was well over Christmas at this point. Imagining him in the classic getup, red pants and jacket with white fur lacing around his collar and cuffs, did little to calm Ichigo’s bubbling nerves. _I wish I was a croissant._

“You sound jilted.”

Ichigo sputtered, face reddening, but he would absolutely blame it on the red lights, though they were nowhere near one. _How does he even know that word?_

“Ah, not exactly, no,” he said with a heated face, coughing into his elbow once. “I just think it’s stupid. A lot of…shiny stuff to take away from the real point of it.”

“And that being?”

It was supposed to be about love, right? That was the whole point of the dumb holiday, but Ichigo really didn’t know why. Like it was the _one_ day a year everyone could suddenly remember it was something important, and then make up for a whole year of passive feelings with some expensive gift that meant a whole lot of nothing.

_Huh, maybe I am jilted._

The way his dad still talked about his mother, keeping her memory alive, even if the poster was kind of creepy, _that_ was love. Yuzu always making sure everyone had enough to eat, Karin yelling at him for falling asleep on the too small couch in a position he knew he’d regret, Kon nudging him awake during a particularly bad dream, _that_ was love. He didn’t need some holiday to remember it because he never forgot about it. It didn’t need to be romantic, and he felt the emphasis the stupid holiday put on it was pointless and gross.

Not that he knew how to say any of that to Grimmjow—wasn’t quite sure he’d understand. Had Grimmjow loved anyone when he was a human? Did Grimmjow remember anything about his human life? Ichigo thought about those things _way_ more than he should; was it unhealthy? Probably. Did that mean he was going to stop? _Sigh._ Probably not. Five years, more or less anyway, of fighting the guy and all he got were more questions than answers, quite a few scars, and feelings he wasn’t sure where to put. Maybe he should buy a how-to guide for flirting. It would beat asking Kon for advice.

Whatever. Now wasn’t the time to get sad about his lack of a love life. It was what it was. And what it was right now, was Jinta not so slyly putting his arm around Yuzu and bringing her closer than they’d been for the past few minutes. Ichigo felt his hand tighten around something hard and swallowed forcefully even though his mouth was dry.

“I’m gonna murder that little bastard,” he hissed, squeezing tighter, glaring needles at the back of Jinta’s head, hoping one would materialize and poke the back of his neck like an acupuncturist with a grudge.

“You’re also gonna murder my wrist if ya keep at it,” Grimmjow said, shaking his arm, forcing Ichigo to realize the hard thing he’d wrapped his hand around was the man’s bony wrist. Seriously, it felt like skin pulled tight over straight bone. How were his biceps so meaty when his wrists were like that? Ichigo let go and looked sheepishly at Grimmjow’s frowny face.

“Shit, sorry.” His skin had been warm though. Very warm. _No wonder he didn’t want to wear his coat_ , Ichigo thought, shifting it around in his arms. Urahara must’ve put a built-in heater in his skin or something, the prick.

Yuzu’s bubbling laugh knocked him from his thoughts about Grimmjow’s hot skin. It looked like she had laughed at something the little red-head said. Feeling his eye twitch, Ichigo looked away, trying to ignore the coil of guilt in his chest. _We should really go home._

“Tch, what’s it to you anyway? Whatever the hell they’re doing, what does it matter to you?”

Grimmjow was looking at him in the same way Urahara had looked at him a couple of times—like he was trying to figure him out, examine him, find the lines that were not to be crossed for the sole purpose of crossing them, Grimmjow was just a little more…obvious about it. Staring like his eyes could peer straight into his skull and read his thoughts, Ichigo scrunched up his face, irritated.

“Wha—she’s my sister! It’s my job to protect her!”

“From Jinta,” Grimmjow deadpanned, one eyebrow raising, giving him side-eye through thick blond lashes. His blue eyes glowed against pale skin, even paler blond hair almost looked white. If someone wasn’t paying attention, they’d probably mistake him for a ghost.

“From everything,” Ichigo muttered, breaking eye contact with him. It had been a whole year since the Quincy from Hell had almost killed everyone he—images of family, friends…Grimmjow…all flashed through his mind like a computer having a seizure—everyone he loved. Had it left him a little paranoid? Absolutely, but hell if he was going to let his sisters get hurt over something stupid.

Deep down, he knew he was overreacting. For all his outward gruffness, Jinta was a good kid, and Yuzu was suitably enamored with him, he guessed. Hell, she was probably singlehandedly keeping Urahara’s shop open for business for how much candy she bought. Hopefully she was brushing her teeth a proportionate amount. 

“Not everything is gonna try’n kill’er,” Grimmjow said, voice a little quitter than usual. _Great, now he’s gonna be all weird around me too._ Ichigo sighed and looked to where Jinta and Yuzu were, currently sitting on a bench looking at the lights, or something. If he tried, he could probably hear them, especially since Jinta was not a...quiet person.

Ichigo shifted the coat in his arms around, really wishing he’d just put it on. He didn’t want to deal with him while he was sick. Knowing him, he’d be a terrible patient, since he usually had all the manners of a honey-badger. 

“I know that; it’s not easy to turn that side of me off,” he said, holding up the coat to Grimmjow. “Will you _please_ put this on? I’m not your pack mule, and you could get sick.” Grimmjow’s eyes widened only slightly, as he looked at the coat held between tanned hands.

“Tch, worryin’ about me too?”

Desperatley trying to ignore the sudden softness in his voice, Ichigo was glad the coat was hiding his reddening face, until Grimmjow grabbed it away from him and slid his arms into it, stuffing his hands in the coat pockets for further measure. He didn’t have a response, well, not one that was _no of course not_ , so he opted to remain silent, staring over at the kids on the bench laughing. Yuzu was swinging her feet.

“Jinta, can I have another kiss?”

Ichigo’s brain halted in the middle of his thought highway an did a full U-turn. Good news, the highway was consistently empty. Bad news, Ichigo was a terrible driver. 

That was the worst sentence he’d ever heard in his life. And last week Grimmjow had uttered some nonsense about him skewering his eyeballs and sucking out the jelly after he cut off his toes and replaced the bone with the bulb the dangling lights Urahara had hung up in his shop for the worst holiday in the world. _I'm going to find father time and reap his soul._

“S-sure thing.”

Why did he sound nervous? Ichigo hadn’t seen them kiss yet, had he missed it? They were too young to be kissing, outrageous! Yuzu was still five years old in his mind.

Then again, he didn’t want to actually witness them kiss at all. He felt dirty and heavy, like he’d fallen into a vat of mixed cement, as Jinta turned and looked at his sister fully, leaning a little closer. If Yuzu knew he was there, she’d kill him on the spot, or tell Karin and have her straight up torture him first. He deserved it. 

Ichigo watched in silent horror as Jinta brought a hand closer to his face and decided to turn away, closing his eyes in the process. This was a private moment, and no amount of overprotectiveness warranted he trespass into it more than he already had. _We should really go._

But Urahara had made him promise to not come back for a while. What was he supposed to do? He guessed he could take Grimmjow back home with him, but then what? As much as Ichigo liked the guy, he’d never actually put his feelings into words because words were _hard, damnit,_ and having him lurk around his bedroom sent a weird electric shock through his body. _Maybe I'm dying._

“What the fuck is that?” Grimmjow’s voice jolted him out of the spiral he was threatening to go down. But he really, really didn’t want to explain the concept of kissing to the guy. _It would be so much easier to show him,_ but Ichigo extinguished that thought with a bucket of imaginary ice water going down his pants. 

“What are you talking about,” he asked, opening his eyes and staring at Grimmjow who was too busy actually staring at the two kids sharing a sweet moment like an _idiot._ Ichigo barely fought the urge to forcibly turn his head away. 

“That shiny thing he gave her.”

Ichigo turned his head so fast it threatened to throw something out of line in his neck. Squinting, it was obvious both of them were chewing on something, by the way the muscles in their mouths were working. Jinta offered up another small chocolate kiss, light reflecting off the shiny foil, making it look like a precious gem from a distance.

Chuckling in his half deliriousness, half stupidity, he looked back at Grimmjow who seemed confused more than anything. “It’s a kiss.”

“No it ain’t.” Grimmjow sounded adamant through the weird look on this face, eyebrow raised like _Ichigo_ didn’t know what the hell he was talking about. If he wasn’t so relieved, he would’ve been offended. 

“Yes it is.”

Ichigo barely had time to register Grimmjow’s strong hands grip him on either arm before he spun him around, pinning his back against a tree, well out of sight of the two bench-lovebirds. Towering over him by a few inches so that Ichigo had to tilt his head slightly against the rough bark of the tree, scratching the back of his head through the stupid beanie, he looked up at him. Eyes wide and confused and Grimmjow studied his face.

A thumb on his lower lip. Right on the corner, rubbed once, horizontally across, parting his lips slightly, as he breathed out, breath ghosting across the digit, causing it to stop, momentarily, in the center of his bottom lip, Ichigo’s only thought was how soft his finger was against him. _Wait. What?_

Grimmjow’s eyes locked on his as he inserted himself even more into his space, the warmth of his body bleeding through his sweater and Ichigo’s own shirt as he pressed their chests flush together, pushing Ichigo’s back harder into the tree. He could barely feel the defined roughness of the trunk through the plushness of his coat. 

Letting the hand trail down from his lips, Grimmjow slid it around the back of his neck, fingernails dragging across sensitive skin as he dug them into flesh and forced Ichigo’s tilted head toward him, colliding their lips together.

His mouth was soft as Ichigo worked against his, pulling the beanie off his head and letting it drop somewhere on the ground, tangling one hand in pale blond hair, the other moving to the side of his face and gripping, pulling him closer, closer. A sharp fang sunk into his bottom lip, causing a small groan to escape Ichigo’s mouth as Grimmjow’s other arm slid around his waist and back, crushing their bodies almost painfully together from shoulder to hip. One of Grimmjow’s legs was right in between his, putting unexpected, but… _very_ nice pressure right where it counted.

Breaking away, Grimmjow was still close, breathing into Ichigo’s mouth, eyes searching his face for…Ichigo wasn’t sure, but his pupils were blown to hell. It was a good look for him, even if it did make him look a bit dopey.

“That’s a kiss,” he said, before descending onto Ichigo’s neck, nibbling at what exposed flesh he could find around the fur hood of his coat. Biting his lip to suppress a moan as Grimmjow’s wicked tongue traced tensed muscle of his neck, his hood flipped up with a sudden gust of wind, tickling against Ichigo’s nose. He tried to turn his head away slightly from the faux fur, but Grimmjow’s hand on the other side of his neck kept his movements mostly static.

Inhaling sharply as Grimmjow sucked a bruise on a sensitive, _vulnerable, visible_ , area of his neck, he felt some of the fur go up his nose and stopped breathing all together. Grimmjow didn’t seem to notice him fighting back a sneeze, as his leg ground up on him from below, sending a confusing mix of signals throughout his body.

Squeezing his eyes shut, he pushed Grimmjow away with one hand and covered his mouth with his elbow, letting out the loudest sneeze he’d ever made, feeling it crackle like lightening in the back of his skull, rattling around what little sense Grimmjow hadn’t been able to frazzle. Cracking his eyes back open, he saw Grimmjow smirking at him, head cocked slightly to one side. Ichigo licked his lips, still able to taste the other on them.

“A… _chocolate kiss_ you dumbass,” he said without any bite, trying to get his breathing steady, heart racketing around in his chest like a broken pinball machine.

“I hate chocolate.” Grimmjow encroached onto his space again, shedding his coat, dropping it to the ground, and Ichigo let him, back resting once more against the tree.

“So I’ve heard,” Ichigo said, running his hands up Grimmjow’s well defined arms, noticeable even when the coat was on. A low sound rumbled from Grimmjow has he stepped in closer, hands going to the top buttons on Ichigo’s shirt. The rumble turned into a growl as he struggled with them, eventually grabbing a hold on the collar and ripping the sides apart by force, top three buttons popping off, sailing somewhere to the right, never to be seen again. Ichigo frowned as Grimmjow descended on the exposed flesh of his collar bone, mouth hot. Ichigo frowned through the pleasurable feeling.

“Hey, this is one of my best shirts,” he protested, voice weak as Grimmjow worked his lips and tongue against sensitive flesh.

“Yeah,” he breathed, letting a hot puff of air ghost across skin, “Looked real nice. Look better on the ground.”

The flutter in Ichigo’s chest made him think of arrhythmia, but decided that was maybe a problem for later…if he lived past this.

The leg was back between his own, and Ichigo wasn’t about to move.

“Please don’t tell me you’ve been practicing on Yoruichi,” Ichigo panted. His heart was going to explode; Grimmjow’s lips were doing some very impressive things.

“Nah, but Kisuke offered,” a voice came from behind them, startling both of them with an awkward jerk of body and limbs. _I know that voice._

Detaching himself from Ichigo, Grimmjow leaned slightly to his left around the tree. Fighting against his burdening desire to hide his face in the man’s neck out of shame of being caught, he just stood there like a stiff spaghetti noodle waiting to be boiled. 

“We’re going to leave now Ichi-nii~” Yuzu’s voice called out from the same place as the first voice. Ichigo let out a small whine that he was sure only Grimmjow heard. _God,_ this was embarrassing.

“Yeah so when you guys get done sucking each other’s faces off, go get a room or something!” That was Jinta, again, sounding mighty pleased with himself, the little turd.

 _I’m going to put a snake in his bed,_ Ichigo thought as he heard them giggle to each other and walk off, leaving Ichigo actually alone with Grimmjow.

“Well, that was embarrassing,” he mumbled, turning his head to the right and leaning it against the back of the tree.

“Get used to it _Ichigo_ ," Grimmjow's breath was hot on his ear, flicking his tongue across it. "‘cuz I ain’t even close to being done with you.” A warm hand turned his face, locking their gazes once more. As Grimmjow grabbed his bottom lip and tugged a little with his teeth, one hand on his chest, the other pulling at a side beltloop, Ichigo couldn’t help but think everything had turned out, all things considered. Grimmjow let go and pressed his lips fully on Ichigo's, tongue sliding inside his mouth. He could feel the smirk working against him as they fought for dominance. 

_Maybe Valentine’s day isn’t so bad after all._

**Author's Note:**

> I didn't tag it in the GrimmIchibigbang thing because I couldn't find the prompt again and didn't save it, so have this anyway. I'll look for it some more and change the tags accordingly if it does, but otherwise, I hope you enjoy! The croissant line is from a Tumblr post.  
> Someday I'll break out of my comfort zone and do something angsty, but right now I'm very happy with where I am :D  
> As always, kudo's and comments are appreciated! :)


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